Fish Hook
by The Writer's Den
Summary: AU, set in the world of Drakonlily's "I Tried" epic. Reno's only been a Turk for a short time, but now he, Tseng, and Reeve are on a mission that faces them off against a gang Reno put down, plus one very unexpected target.
1. Chapter 1

Fish Hook

Chapter 1

Junon, night, after three days of rain.

The moon, brilliant and just past full, seemed to pull the city's lights into its own pale aura. A black car, purring like a satisfied brunette beneath the driver's confident touch, sped across the icy bridge to Junon. Below them, hundreds of feet down, the water of the bay glistened; before them, the city rose up to greet them.

Junon was cosmopolitan glass and steel where Midgar was old money and forgotten lower reaches, and the occupants of the car vastly preferred the former's thumping, sleek nightclubs to the latter's elbow-length-glove-and-diamond-tiara-studded state balls.

Not that the occupants of the car were here to actually enjoy said clubs; as usual, there was work to be done. So what if it was the eve of the biggest holiday of the year? Turks didn't know the meaning of a day off.

Tseng glanced at his companions, then back at the road. There was a short spark in the cab, the soft flare of a Zippo and then the red glow of a drag from a cigarette. The puff of smoke that came shortly after was sucked out through the slightly open back window, streaming out into the chilly night air. Like magic, the Zippo reappeared at Tseng's shoulder, dancing toward Reeve in the passenger seat. Reeve accepted it with a nod.

"Thanks, man."

If it had only been Tseng and Reeve, perhaps that might have been the last words spoken for the rest of the drive. Tonight, however, a third joined them.

One who, given the choice, would have preferred to stay home.

"Reeeeeeve?" came the plaintive question from the back seat. "Why ain't Rude with us on this one? And where the hell is Scarlet?" Reeve flinched, and Tseng almost smiled. He had wondered the same thing himself. Not so much about Scarlet—he knew as much as the rest of them that the President had other ideas for her. It was unfortunate; she was a good Turk, and Tseng would have rather had her with them tonight. The fact that Rude wasn't with them, however, meant this mission didn't require Rude's brute strength.

Which in turn meant that finesse was the key word tonight. Tseng knew he was the best in that department, with Reeve a close second. Physical limitations aside, Reeve was a brilliant negotiator.

Tseng was still mystified about Reno's presence. He was about to voice his own question when Reeve finally spoke.

"If she was needed, she'd be here. Now be still for once and listen." Reeve opened the briefcase on his lap with a single click.

Reno sat forward, arms on the backs of their seats, and looked down in curiosity. He and Tseng were both surprised to see weapons instead of the usual briefing papers. A pair of oil-black pistols was handed back to Reno. "I know you have your mag rod, but take these as well."

"Great." The boy let out a low, irritated groan. "I can just see this is gonna be a fun evening."

"What, a night on the town, going to one of the hottest nightclubs in Junon doesn't sound like fun?" Reeve sent a glance his way, hands putting together another deadly-looking gun from the briefcase as if he'd done it without looking a thousand times. He probably had.

Tseng cleared his throat. "Which club?"

Instead of answering, Reeve motioned to an exit off the bridge. "Turn there and pull up to the loading dock."

"Yes, sir."

Gravel crunched under the tires as they followed Reeve's directions. The absence of mission papers and presence of extra weaponry had intrigued the other two into silence. Even Reno refrained from asking his usual "why?", which amused Tseng. Reeve pointed at a particular set of shipping crates, and they parked between it and the water.

"Pop the trunk, Se. Both of you, get out. We have some preparation to do."

They did as they were told, though Reno protested, "Why all the spy stuff? You're—we're—Turks, right? Ain't we gonna go in with guns blazing and all that?"

Avoiding his question again, Reeve limped over to the trunk and pulled out a duffel bag and a long black case. "Reno," he asked nonchalantly, "What are the major gangs you know of in Midgar?"

Reno rattled off the names, irked. "Fallen, Cyanide, Desperadoes…"

"And who else? Think back."

"There were the Pirates, but we—oh fucking hell." He caught the duffel bag that Reeve tossed to him, then threw it to the ground and stalked forward. "You brought me on a mission that involves the goddamn Pirates? Couldn't you just have shot me back in Midgar?"

"Reno," Reeve said quietly. It was enough; the threat of his tone froze even Reno's angry rant. When the boy had calmed down, Reeve relaxed a bit and went on. "I brought you with us because our target doesn't know you. His men will, but we can turn that into an advantage."

Tseng and Reeve watched Reno fume, his hands clenched into fists as he smoked the last of his cigarette down to the filter.

"What?" he snapped, throwing it into the darkness.

Reeve raised a brow. "Aren't you going to ask how or why?"

The reply came with a bit of a dead edge to it. "No." Reno stuffed his hands into the pockets of his ill-fitting suit. "I just do what I'm told. I gave up trying to make sense of any of this."

"Good," Tseng murmured. "You finally understand how this works."

Reeve laughed, once, sharply, then motioned to the bag. "Your clothes are in there. Get changed. Se, this is for you. Start putting it together, and I'll tell you the rest of our mission."

They obeyed; it was all they could do. Tseng's black case turned out to house a Wutaian sniper rifle; Reno looked dubiously at his bag, as if it would bite him. He let out a strangled sound of dismay at the contents. Reeve stifled a chuckle and went on.

"Our target is protected not only by his personal army of former Pirates, but also by a crowd of civilians. This is the biggest party night of the year, but it's the only time we can guarantee a shot at him before he goes back into hiding until next year. Be prepared for anything. He probably won't hesitate to use the civilians as a shield if he must."

"Who is he?" Tseng asked even before Reno could get the sentence formed. "The ultimate target?"

Reeve grimaced. "Sephiroth."

Reno summed it up in one good word. "Fuck." He stomped a few steps away and back. "Just great. I KNEW that whoreson wasn't dead."

Tseng gritted his teeth. "This is asinine! They want us to kill someone who is basically dead to the world anyway? It makes no fucking sense."

Reeve shrugged. "I'm just telling you the mission. I don't know why he's here, or how he managed it. All I know is that Sephiroth—or someone pretending to be him—is becoming a power to be dealt with in Junon. ShinRa wants us to stop him either way. If it's some schmuck who thinks he can bleach his hair and call himself Sephiroth, we get to whack him. If it's the real deal—well, either way, as I said, we're here to put him out of ShinRa's misery."

"If he's the real thing, we are so fucked." Reno kicked off his shoes and pulled on the boots from the bag.

"Our intelligence says that, a year ago, a man calling himself Sephiroth began dealings with the local gangs and Dons in the Junon area." Reeve lit another cigarette with the butt of his old one, inhaled, then exhaled a perfect ring. "He's gained a great deal of power since then. Everyone wants in on his racket. Half of his connections are afraid of him, half of them just want to be associated with his name."

The other two took the information in. At last, Tseng swore. "And what is he supposed to do? Say, 'oh, Reeve, Tseng! Been forever, guys! How ARE you?' He knows us, knows exactly what we look like."

Reeve laughed. "Rufus put this together, guys. Relax a little. Trust me."

Tseng frowned. "Rufus or no, I don't relish the prospect of going toe to toe with Sephiroth."

"We aren't going to fight him at all if I can help it." Reeve smiled. "Besides, you get the easy job. Reno's the one who has to go in among the Pirates; that's why he gets the extra armaments."

Tseng looked a bit baffled at the mention of the gang, so Reeve explained. "Pirates are the major gang here in Junon. They are also directly under Sephiroth's control." He motioned with the cigarette toward Reno. "Fallen, of which our own little Reno was a leader, took out the Midgar Pirates, about a year and a half ago. You remember?"

Gang wars weren't completely beyond his comprehension, but Tseng had never fully understood the politics. Unlike Reno, he had never had to pledge his lifelong loyalty to one. Unlike Reeve, he never had to move within them as a youth. Even so, it was hard not to recall the uproar beneath the Plate when Reno's gang all but destroyed their rivals. "Ahh, and the Pirates of Junon probably haven't forgotten, either. So, if the very Red Wolf himself strolls into the place, he's not walking out without a big fight." Tseng almost felt sorry for Reno at the look on the young man's face.

Reno looked betrayed. "And not only do I get to walk right into the middle of their little hideout, on their turf, I have to do it looking like THIS?"

The clothes were not, as Reno had originally expected, the kinds of things he might have once worn as leader of the Fallen; they were too slick for that. Leather, lots of it—a jacket, tight pants, a mesh shirt, black boots—and all of it was designed to hide a multitude of weapons. Reno felt like an idiot. "I'm gonna stand out in these!" he protested.

Reeve grinned. "No, quite the opposite. You'll blend in—just enough. If you go in there in your Turk blue, you'll cause much more of a stir. Go in like this, however—" He took another drag off the cigarette. "You'll look like a former gang leader, out for a night on the town. You never met Sephiroth, and one tidbit of info we do have is that he doesn't know your face. As far as he's concerned, you're here on gang business, a leader who made good."

Tseng shook his head, piecing the sniper together. "This plan is insane." Then he looked up, grinning to match Reeve. "But at least I'm not the walking target this time."

"Great. Fucking great." Reno pulled the leather coat on over the shirt. "Just tell me I can open fire if anyone so much as breathes wrong around me."

Reeve crushed the cigarette under his heel. "Let's go," he said, getting back into the passenger seat. "We have a party to crash."

The club's name was Masamune; Reno made a rude comment about narcissistic pricks naming places after their private parts. Reeve instructed Tseng to drive by with the traffic before turning down an alley on the other side of the block. He looked sternly back at Reno while they parked. "Calm down," he ordered. "If you aren't calm you WILL get killed."

Reno looked out the window. "What happens if Se misses?"

"I don't miss, Reno." Tseng almost laughed. "If I do, I'll buy you a few rounds, deal?"

The boy—it was hard to remember, sometimes, that he still WAS a boy—was unusually solemn as he pushed the door open and got out. Just before he shut it, he leaned back in. "If you miss, then you can tell Trigg why I'm not coming home." Then, before either Tseng or Reeve could respond, he spun on heel and stalked off down the alley.

The night was downright frigid. Reno slapped his arms a few times and cracked his neck. Faint vibrations from the club came through the grate in the alley where he'd gotten out. He had to give Tseng and Reeve time to get into their own places within the higher floors of the club. It didn't help that the leather jacket was more for show than warmth; his nipples hardened uncomfortably under the mesh shirt and his skin felt the bite of cold steel from one of the pistols tucked beneath his arm.

He couldn't believe this was the assignment. Too much counted on Sephiroth acting in a certain way, on the control he had over the gang that wanted Reno's head on a spike. He cast the glowing butt of his cigarette away, watched the ember trail off into the darkness, then took a deep breath. The others had had plenty of time. He wanted this to be over, one way or another. Preferably with him still alive. He had a little girl who was counting on him, after all. She'd wanted her daddy to bring home a souvenir from Junon; he hoped it wouldn't be a bloodstained jacket and a "sorry, kid."

There was a line outside the club. Girls with heavily painted faces and shiny dresses clamored to be let in, their equally decorated and sparkling men beside them. Many affected an attitude of boredom, as if this wasn't one of THE hottest spots in Junon and they weren't worried they wouldn't make it in past the black velvet ropes. Reno rolled his eyes. This was no way to get into an exclusive club. You had to look like you belonged, like they were expecting you.

He sauntered past the line, looking for the right kind of face. One girl with a perfect pair of breasts looked like she'd match him well, and he caught her elbow. "Come with me. I'll get you in," he murmured. She gasped in disbelief and delight. Without hesitation, she ducked under the cordon and left her erstwhile date behind.

"Let me do the talking, okay?" Reno smiled as he led her to the front of the line. "You don't have to stick around me—in fact, when we get inside, go do your own thing."

"You're my ticket in there," she whispered, "I won't cramp your style. Though if you're interested, later—"

"I'll give it some thought," he promised, silently thankful he'd be either dead or on his way home to Midgar within the next couple of hours. Just went to show how much having a kid changed a man.

He'd chosen well. She followed his lead exactly, putting just the right kind of confidence in her step to match his own as they approached the door and the bouncer. He gave them the once-over—the girl's chest got the twice-over—and nodded to them. Reno smiled and nodded, snapping a hundred-gil piece in the bouncer's direction, exactly as the man expected. Simple bribery would never work, but once someone was allowed inside, it was common courtesy to tip well. The man caught it and pushed the door open, and they were inside.


	2. Chapter 2

Fish Hook

Chapter 2

The music was loud; the beat so heavy Reno felt like it would make his heart match its thumping just from sheer power. He kissed the girl on the cheek—words would have been lost in the noise anyway—and she gave him a little wave, then disappeared into the crowd.

Like most underground clubs, this place had a large, open floor several steps down from the entrance. Bars lined the mirrored walls on the left and right, doing brisk holiday business while people swarmed the dance floor. The DJ's booth was up ahead, like an altar surrounded by ten-foot speakers that bristled in every direction. Along the balcony that circled the place, Reno could see faces he recognized and colors he knew by heart. They were the only people in the room who wore any color but black, white, or silver, and they all carried weapons. The concentration of Pirates grew heavier over the DJ's booth, and Reno saw why.

An enormous pair of wings had been created out of metal bars, catwalk rigging, grates, wires, speakers...they spread out on both sides of the room as if to protect all who sheltered underneath them, as if their owner was some kind of god. And there he was, sitting at ease and simply watching the room with his eerie, green glowing eyes.

Sephiroth.

_Holy,_ Reno thought, _This is the real thing. Not some impostor._

_Shit._

It was time. Reno pushed through the crowd and began to move forward.

As he rose, he could see two opposite booths on the balcony level, both occupied. On one side, a rowdy, red-faced man partied hard with a selection of choice women and other men in suits. Opposite him, across the cavern of the dance floor, another man sat surrounded by frowning bodyguards wearing sunglasses. Reno didn't know the first man, but the second he definitely recognized.

But he had bigger things to think about than Gao of Wutai. He only hoped Gao didn't hold a grudge from the old days, too, or this would be the shortest mission in the history of the Turks.

He hadn't given much thought to how he was going to get Sephiroth's attention. Odds were that he wouldn't get past the ranks of gang members who stood at attention unless… Reno smiled grimly. There were exactly three Pirates left alive after the explosion at their headquarters in Midgar, three people who should recognize him on sight. One was the DJ, lost in his spinning, but the other two were standing guard at the top of the stairs. They were at the innermost rank, one on either side of Sephiroth and just in front of his throne.

He walked past the first rank. One man yelled at him, only to receive a glare from Reno. Again, the key to doing anything was to pretend you were supposed to be doing it. The second rank let him pass. As he started up the stairs, he pretended to be interested in the complicated work on the wing that held the railing. His hand ran along it slowly, fully aware that everyone at the top of the stairs was staring at him as though he was dangerous or crazy.

Or both. Maybe more crazy than dangerous at the moment. He took a hard look around the club again, now that he was higher up. There was no other way to this area beyond the way he'd just come. The level boasted its own bar and was lined to the ceiling with windows. Though the rest of the club was underground, this part must at least be above street level. So this was how Tseng and Reeve would get a shot inside.

But he was wasting time. He made himself move forward, put a saunter in his step and a lazy smile on his face. One of the men guarding Sephiroth—the guy's name had always amused Reno—looked like he would be happy to rip Reno to shreds right there. Reno didn't feel like obliging him. "Heya, Piper! What's up, man?"

Varying degrees of confusion swept Piper's face, finally coalescing into a widemouthed gape that gave Reno a strange view of gold teeth and a silver tongue ring. Piper stumbled back, not even bothering to grab at his gun while it dropped to the floor.

Reno couldn't suppress a sneer. He'd known Piper for a coward, but from the way the man was acting, one would think Reno was more deadly than Sephiroth. It wasn't like Reno had even killed Piper's "brothers" with his bare hands. Honestly.

Piper backed into a table, causing one of the scantily clad women near Sephiroth to spill her drink all over herself. Ignoring her squeal of indignation, Piper finally found his voice. "Red Wolf!"

The words were like magic, heard above everything, even the pulse-changing music. Everything in the club came to a silent standstill. Both ranks of Pirates spun, mouths agape, while the DJ—Spinner, if Reno remembered correctly—blinked owlishly up at the group at the table. Only the man on the other side of Sephiroth kept his head and awaited orders. Reno remembered the face, but couldn't think of the name. It would probably come to him later.

Everyone seemed to hold their breaths as Reno crouched down and picked up Piper's gun. He enjoyed the collective flinch the others made when he dumped the clip, spinning the butt of the weapon toward Piper once more. No one noticed the tiny wireless bug he'd stuck to the bottom of the barrel; now, Tseng and Reeve would be able to hear what was going on. Piper gingerly accepted his gun, careful not to touch Reno's hand, then scuttled back to the railing.

Reno turned to face Sephiroth, who had been watching the exchange with undisguised interest. Had he seen the bug? For a moment, Reno worried that the former general's senses really were as keen as the legends said. But if Sephiroth had seen, wouldn't he have said something? Reno could only hope.

The confident smirk Reno plastered on his face hid the quick pace of his heart. While it might be fun to cause a stir like this from time to time, he'd much rather do it when his life wasn't at stake. "So I'm guessin' yer Masamune, right? Like the sign says?"

"That would be correct." Sephiroth's bright eyes narrowed at Reno, then he waved at the DJ. "Continue. I do not pay you to gawk."

Spinner made a stammering sound, but when both Reno and Sephiroth slowly turned their heads to gaze at him, he immediately resumed his job.

It was surprisingly quiet here, though Reno supposed it was designed this way so the gang could do business. He waited while Sephiroth studied him. It was eerily reminiscent of the way Hojo looked someone over. Best not to think about THAT.

Sephiroth seemed to notice the other men watching them as well. "Turn about and mind your own businesses!" he snapped. The ranks shifted their feet like a pack of dogs begging to be let on a fox.

The second officer was the first one brave enough to speak. "Ah, sir? Shouldn't we kill him?"

"I haven't decided that yet, Jack. Take these two—" he motioned to the women who had leapt up behind him— "away. I will send for them later if I feel like it. Piper, pull up a chair for our visitor. He obviously wishes to speak with me."

Neither gang member looked pleased, but they carried out their orders. Piper stood behind Sephiroth after getting Reno a chair, though he looked like he wanted to bolt. While it was uncomfortable to have his back to twelve armed men that wanted to kill him, Reno sat casually, leaning on the table and lighting a cigarette. He offered one to Sephiroth, who waved it away and took out his own pack. "I don't trust you," he smiled dangerously. "No offense."

Reno laughed, earning an eyebrow raise from the silver-haired leader. "No offense to you, but if I wanted ta go out inna blaze of glory, I'd'a capped ya from the stairs." It shocked him, how quickly he reverted back to his old way of speaking. Sometimes it felt like Fallen had been a lifetime away, and yet, here he was, as if he'd never met a man named Reeve just over a year ago.

"Is it difficult to walk?" Sephiroth asked, puffing out smoke from a cigarette three times the cost of the one in Reno's mouth. At Reno's questioning look, he elaborated. "I'm just curious, considering the brass balls you must have to even have considered coming here like this."

Reno forced another laugh. He motioned for the ashtray that was just out of his reach and felt smug when Piper actually fetched it for him. "Well, I get by." While he flicked ash into the glass dish, he finally came up with a good reason to be here. About time. "I actually have a business proposition for you, one that could be very profitable, seeing as you have no Midgar chapter."

"You bastard!" Jack cried, hearing the last words just as he returned from his task. He lunged forward, only to be snagged by Sephiroth's gloved hand and flung into the wall. The general's even expression never changed, as though he was merely waving away a fly. Jack slumped to the ground, out cold.

Reno mentally calculated the speed and the heavy force of that blow, then prayed to whatever Wutaian god would aid accuracy. If Tseng missed, Reno would be in a lot of trouble, and Sephiroth would be his biggest worry.

---

Tseng was ready; he just needed the perfect opportunity. Reno and Sephiroth were talking...at least the former Pirates hadn't shot Reno on sight. Thank the gods for small miracles.

He adjusted his fingers on the trigger of the weapon, fanning them and keeping them from growing stiff. He didn't envy Reno's job on this mission. It wasn't often the Turks used one of their own as bait in such an obvious way. He only needed one good shot, one perfect moment when Sephiroth was clearly visible and Tseng could exert the little bit of pressure needed to end the former general's life for good. He just needed…yes, Reno could move a little to the left…

Wait...why was Reno sitting down? "Reeve," he whispered into the toothpick-sized mic that branched from his earpiece, "What the hell is Reno doing?"

"Steady, Se," came Reeve's calm reply. "We'll just have to give them more time than expected."

"We don't have all night. I don't like it."

"Tseng..."

"I know, Reeve. But I don't like it."

A dark chuckle echoed in the earpiece. "Let's see what Reno does. Maybe he has a plan."

"A plan, right," Tseng snorted, but waited nonetheless.

---

Reno sat across from Sephiroth, wishing he had a plan. Tseng should have taken the shot by now; the only thing that Reno could think of was that HE needed to move somehow. He knew that the ONLY chance he had of getting out of this club, short of an act from some deity, would be the immediate confusion after Sephiroth's death.

First, however, he had to MOVE. "Eh, ya mind?" He motioned his head to the tense lines of Pirates who were just waiting for the word to open up on him. They had turned around as ordered, but still cast glances up the stairwell, ready to shoot. "It's a bit, ah, uncomfortable, having yer back to people that wanna shoot'cha."

Sephiroth drummed his fingers on the table—another trait he shared with Doctor Hojo—and scanned the club with his eyes. "You came totally alone?"

Reno nodded. "Look, I'm not wearing colors, in fact, I stepped down from leadership a while ago. But, what else is a gang banger gonna do? I've got no education, never held a real job, ya know?" He lit another cigarette and hoped he wasn't sweating. "I just want to make a business arrangement. What happened in Midgar has nothing to do with you."

Piper cast a look at Jack, still slumped on the floor. He seemed ready to interject, but wisely kept his mouth shut. Spinner, too, kept glancing up at Reno and Sephiroth. They knew that Reno was responsible for their old gang's downfall.

So was Sephiroth, apparently. "You singlehandedly walked into their hideout, closed them in the barracks and burned them alive. It sounded sort of personal." Sephiroth smirked at the look on Reno's face. "I do my homework."

"Well, yeah, I suppose it was personal." Reno started to tap his foot nervously, but stopped himself. He leveled a glare at Piper. He didn't think that his voice would have the emotion it did, even after all this time, but it did. Saying the words felt like opening a wound. "They killed someone close to me, someone helpless."

Sephiroth waved a dismissive hand and looked bored. "They did a lot of things, you know. This is the way it is with gangs." He sat back and took a drink. "But this conversation isn't going anywhere. It's all old news. Tell me, Red Wolf, what brings you to my club tonight of all nights?"

Reno felt his hand clench into a fist and made himself relax. Sephiroth knew full well how important Beth had been to him; it wasn't exactly a secret. Reno was being baited, and he didn't plan to take it like some fish hook. Instead, he focused on the last thing Sephiroth had said. "Why, is something happening tonight? I figured it was just business as usual, unless you mean the New Year's party."

Reno was glad the two other bosses were too far away for them to hear what he was saying; Gao's eyes burned across the empty space and into Reno's. Gao was a Wutaian gang leader who had considered Reno an upstart. It was too bad he'd underestimated how determined and fierce a Midgar slum kid could become. Reno nodded to Gao, then turned away as if dismissing him. "And just why aren't you all killing each other?"

"Why, because I have called them here specifically, invited them if you will. This place is neutral territory tonight. I thought perhaps you had come because you felt safe tonight. If not that, then what?"

Reno ignored the question. "They're not going to make it out alive, are they? You're planning a coup."

A sinister grin spread across the other man's face. "You always were smarter than anyone gave you credit for."

"Yeah, well, smarter doesn't always keep a guy alive. Does that mean you're going to kill me, too, since I know?"

"My dear boy, I think you know already that I've been planning to kill you since you walked in." A series of clicks sounded behind Reno as the rank of former Pirates readied their weapons. He fought to remain relaxed. He wasn't in this alone; Reeve and Tseng were backing him up. All he had to do was stay alive a few minutes more. He began to calculate where people were in relation to him, sensed where the closest Pirates were positioned. All it would take was a single word from Sephiroth, and every hell would break loose.

So much for an in and out mission. This was going to be a bloodbath. Reno's hands tensed, ready to draw.

The tension suddenly disappeared. Sephiroth leaned back again with a smile and took a sip of his drink. "But first, it has been so long since I had a civilized conversation with anyone. Surely you understand the perils of being an intellectual man in charge of a herd of uneducated swine. Why don't we talk for a while?" He grinned again, a superior being offering something valuable to a lesser one. "Perhaps I'll keep you alive after all."

Reno smiled back. "Gee, Mister Masamune, that would be swell." Why hadn't Tseng shot yet? Every cell in his body wanted to be out of there.

Sephiroth laughed, delighted. "That's exactly what I mean. Now, let us discuss what you've been doing these last few years, shall we?"


	3. Chapter 3

Fish Hook

Chapter 3

"He's not moving, Reeve."

"I know, Se. I'm watching, too. Hold on. I'll be there myself in a moment." Reeve could feel his knee throbbing. Missing the rain in Junon didn't mean he wouldn't feel the effects of the weather, and he knew his mood wasn't helping any. He'd smoked almost half a pack in the past hour. Gods, if something happened to Reno, how would he break the news to Trigger?

He climbed the railing to where Tseng waited. Part of him wanted to pull out, just not do the job and find another time now that Reno had earned Sephiroth's trust. If only he had that option. ShinRa wanted Sephiroth dead, and it didn't matter to them if a little girl lost her daddy in the process.

"Wait, they got up," Tseng spoke, squinting along the rifle sights as Reeve joined him. "What are they saying? I don't like the look on the target's face."

Reeve crouched down, biting back a grunt of pain. "Sephiroth likes Reno."

Tseng's eyes widened, though they never wavered from the scope. "What? He never liked anyone but Zax, and he killed Zax, too."

"I know, but still…the way he's been talking, it sounds like he's thinking about offering a job to Reno. As long as it stays that way, it buys us some time. Just, gods, Se, don't miss. Reno's as good as dead if you do."

"Stop fucking reminding me, what do you think's been going through my head for the past hour?" Tseng remained motionless despite his strained words. "Wait—I think this may be it."

Both men held their breaths, one watching and the other listening. Tseng gently squeezed the trigger. It was all over from there.

Or it should have been. Reeve and Tseng looked at each other in utter shock and absolute horror. They were Turks, they'd seen everything. Surely this couldn't have happened.

"Reno," they said together, and sprang to their feet. They had to get inside the club, and fast.

---

What to talk about, what to say? Reno wracked his mind for a way to fill in the last year or so that wouldn't give away his connection to the Turks. Sephiroth watched him, politely interested and as unassuming as a resting lion. Reno didn't want to raise suspicion—he wasn't up to facing down an angry, hungry lion today.

He was saved from it at all. "Sir," a heavily accented Wutaian voice said from behind him, "We have business to discuss, yet you sit and speak with this trash. I do not have time—"

Sephiroth's gaze turned steely. "Mister Gao, I do not recall inviting you to speak with us. The Red Wolf and I have business of our own."

Gao moved into Reno's line of sight. He was an immaculately-dressed man, completely out of place in his almost old-fashioned pinstriped suit and tie. The cane he always carried tapped the floor between black shoes that had been shined to near mirror perfection. Reno had seen the true nature of that cane before; it hid a thin-bladed sword that gave Gao his common nickname. The Asp—small, seemingly harmless, yet deadly.

"Heya, Snake," Reno gave a jaunty wave. He grinned. Gao hated being called Snake. He liked the image of the asp. It must have seemed more dignified or something. Reno pushed a little further. "Cold-blooded as always, I see."

Gao shot him a disgusted glare, lip curled, but kept his temper in check. Whatever business he thought he had with Sephiroth, it must be more important to him than a former rival. Instead of replying to Reno, he addressed Sephiroth once more. "Sir—"

"Yes, yes, Gao, of course." The bored tone was back. "Just let me finish my conversation here, and we'll get to you in a moment." He rose and went to the railing to look down at the crowd of dancers and motioned for both Reno and Gao to follow him.

"You see this? This is where the new power is. For decades, our kind have taken money from the downtrodden, the slumdwellers. Is it any wonder that ShinRa looks down on us as well? Is it surprising to find swine like that idiot Fensch there—" he nodded toward the party on the right side of the balcony with a friendly smile, "—have risen to the positions you both had to acquire by wit and strength?" Fensch caught the nod and smiled widely without subtlety.

Sephiroth turned away, his expression changing to one of disgust. "We need new prey. The lower classes are tapped out, so where does that leave us?"

"With the upper classes," Reno replied, earning a real smile.

"Exactly. Hence, the club. I didn't even have to work at it. All I did was turn away a few curious people on the first night, and now they pay to be told to wait outside. They beg for invitations, as though being on one side or another of the door means the difference between one quality of life or another." Sephiroth shook his head. "It's time to start aiming higher. I have the 'elite' of Junon eating out of my hand and begging for the honor of doing so. Imagine what we can do in the rest of the world."

Gao frowned in thought. "This is true, but not all of us can open nightclubs. I need something more for my territory."

"Of course. We can work out the details later, though. Come, let's—"

Suddenly, Sephiroth was not where he'd been an instant before. There was a crisp, popping sound, like something piercing heavy glass, and one of the Pirate guards fell in a spray of blood.

Reno and Gao ducked at once. Reno slipped and fell onto his back to see the furious general inspecting a tiny bullet hole in the window. The silver head snapped in Reno's direction, eyes measuring the likelihood of Gao or Reno being the culprit. Reno could see his mind working, could even see the moment he decided it didn't matter who was at fault.

_Shit, shit, shit._

The DJ stopped again for the second time that night. In the silence, Sephiroth's voice rang out through the club, deep and clear. "Kill them!"

The Pirates, aching to the man to shoot something, anything, opened up on the club. Wires snapped, people screamed and trampled each other to get away. Glass shattered over and over from the waves of bullets, showering and shattering again on the dance floor like powder.

Outraged, Gao drew his sword from the cane, his bodyguards moving forward like a cloak to surround him. "You planned to do this all along!" he growled at Sephiroth.

"Yes," Sephiroth said, angry but grinning all the same, "I did."

Reno stayed where he was, forgotten for the moment. He watched as Sephiroth drew the real Masamune, the one for which he'd named his club, the sword that had been until now just another part of the decoration. A metallic whisper was all the sound it made before it bit into the two bodyguards in front of Gao. They fell, in four pieces, to the floor.

Gao stood his ground, raising his own meager blade in defense, and Sephiroth lunged.

_Well, one fewer gang lord to worry about now,_ Reno thought as Gao's arm landed a foot—_ha ha_—away from him, still clutching the cane. He began to inch backward while Sephiroth made short work of the remaining bodyguards. A high-pitched screaming rose over the cries of the crowd, and Reno could see the other gang leader, Fensch, meeting a messy end of his own.

Once the last of Gao's men had been dispatched, Sephiroth refocused on Reno, crawling away. There wasn't any way to hide; Reno would have to fight. He rose slowly, warily, as Sephiroth hefted the Masamune and watched him.

"Interesting," Sephiroth said, "You are far more clever than even I gave you credit to be, but as you said, it won't keep you alive."

"Yeah, they make guns fer that." Reno jumped to the right, over the rail, drawing both guns. For once, he was thankful for the extra firepower Reeve had provided. He landed on a hanging speaker that immediately snapped under his weight, the cable raining sparks like fireworks as he crashed down, guns blazing. His arms snapped to the sides to take out men on the stairs.

Just before the speaker shattered on the floor, Reno jumped to the ground. He rolled twice before gaining his feet to knock down another Pirate. It was time for his exit, Reno decided.

Sephiroth gripped the rail, unwilling to let his opponent escape. Piper and some of the other men gathered beside him, firing their guns into the crowd to get a line on Reno's retreating back.

Music still played; somehow, the sound system had gotten turned back on in the confusion and no one cared to try to turn it off. The shrieks and screams of people overlaid the thumping beat. "Stop," Sephiroth growled, thrusting out a hand. "He's mine." He snarled and leapt off the balcony one-handed to land gracefully on the floor. The force of impact drove back the crowd of erstwhile dancers. Sephiroth didn't even look at them. His focus was on the bright red hair that was even now forcing a way through the throng.

"Out of my WAY!" Sephiroth bellowed, stalking forward and slashing Masamune to the side. The crowd pushed back further, unlucky ones getting caught by the blade. They fell away, cowering, and a path opened up for him to reach his target. On both sides, coming from the other direction, he saw his Pirates filtering through the people who made for the door. They wanted Reno just as much as Sephiroth did. If they weren't careful, their quarry would escape. "Bar the door!"

Another dozen people made it out, and then the Pirates managed to slam the doors shut. They fired into the crowd to keep them from trampling each other and breaking them down. Reno saw this and realized he would have to fight, here, now.

He turned to face Sephiroth, thinking of his daughter. At least no one would be able to say he went down without a fight, he thought as he drew his mag rod, the last weapon he had. It hummed to life in his hand, comfortable and familiar. He felt his stance change to the insolent, cocky one he had adopted since becoming a Turk.

Something in that very stance caused a spark of recognition in Sephiroth's angry glare. The hellish eyes seemed to flare. "Now I see—I know what you are, ShinRa whore." He spat the word, then sneered. "Not quite as smart as I though you were, then." The blade whipped from side to side.

"I told you there was more to survival than intelligence," Reno said lazily, tapping the mag rod on his shoulder as if he had no cares in the world. "There's also a lot of luck involved."

"Let's see how much luck you have, then." Sephiroth stopped moving, then twisted the blade and swept upward. Reno leaned back and ducked under the path of the sword to jab the rod against Sephiroth's ribs. There was a blast of electricity and a sharp cry from Sephiroth. The general leapt back, only to immediately rush forward again. Masamune was a blur of short slices that caught Reno's coat and shirt, tearing fabrics and shaving the tips off his hair.

Reno had to keep moving. Sephiroth wasn't playing with him, he wanted Reno dead. Only the Mako treatments that all Turks had to suffer through kept him alive and fast enough to avoid the blade. Should he parry with the rod and risk losing it, or should he keep running? There wasn't anywhere else for him to go. He dodged and spun, jerked his shoulders back and nearly bent double to get away from the Masamune.

Then Reno had an idea. He hit the floor, flat on his back. Instead of scrambling backwards to gain distance, he flipped forward, putting him nose to nose with Sephiroth. Reno could smell the expensive cigarette laced with high end boozeon the other man's breath. Reno reached out, bracing Sephiroth's sword arm with his hand at the wrist and striking quickly with the mag rod into his side again.

Sephiroth was strong, far stronger then Reno had first gathered. With a bestial snarl of pain, Sephiroth shoved Reno to the side. His hand clutched at his chest for a second while he straightened slowly. Reno could actually hear a constant, feral growl from deep in Sephiroth's throat.

The crowd was totally silent, loath to go near either of them but with no place to run. Now they were not watching a gang war, they were watching ShinRa at work. The general that had been renowned as the greatest warrior of any age on one side, facing off against a member of a legendary group that many didn't even believe existed.

Stiff legged, Reno and Sephiroth made circles around each other. Reno shrugged off his coat, holding it in one hand. Thinking to take advantage of Reno's distraction, Sephiroth lunged again, getting Reno's coat full in his face. Before he had cut the item in two, Reno was halfway to the bar. Nearly crouching again, the enraged swordsman tore after him. Reno placed his hands on the bar and hauled himself over it just as Sephiroth reached him. The Masamune bit deep into the bar, just missing Reno but making a deep gouge in the marble.

Reno wasted no time; he smashed a full bottle of Everclear on the bar, then reached into his pocket for his lighter. Before he had time to light up the bar, however, Sephiroth gave up trying to free his sword and instead placed one palm on the surface and swung his body over to Reno's side. Reno scrambled back over to the outside. If he was caught in such a small area with Sephiroth, there wouldn't be enough left of him to bury. Back and forth the two went, Sephiroth getting more and more agitated. "When I get a hold of you," he growled, "I promise to teach you new meanings of pain, whore!"

Reno knew that the best way to win a fight was to get the other man so angry he couldn't think straight. He aimed low. "You know? You sound JUST like youre father when you say that."

It must have been a little too low. Without so much as a grunt of effort, Sephiroth ripped the sword from bar, leaving splinters of marble and wood to spill on the floor. His free hand flew out to grip the mesh of Reno's shirt.

Reno was pitched to the floor, hard enough to shove the wind from his lungs. He had swiped a gun from behind the bar, but he didn't have time to gain his feet. Gasping for air, he looked up at a sharp pain in his chest.

Sephiroth loomed above him, barely pushing the point of the Masamune into the ribs over Reno's heart. Struggling to breathe, Reno forced his arm up with the gun, pulling back the hammer.

Stalemate.

"You're dead, corporate slut Red Wolf," Sephiroth growled. "What did you think? That I spent all that time, letting clones go, working to get that assignment in Nibelheim, just to bleed into the background? Don't be a fool."

"You're the fool, and a pathetic one at that." Reno was gratified to see the look of rage intensify on Sephiroth's face. "So help me, I'll take you with me. But you have no idea how many people would have given up limbs to have the chance you had? The one you tossed away? Bullshit, acting like the world owes you something."

"Ahh, here comes the intellectual conversation I've missed." Sephiroth rocked forward, barely resisting the urge to impale Reno into the cement. "And what if that gun's empty? What if I attach you to the floor and then go back to Midgar?"

Reno felt cold; heknew where the other man was going with that line of thought. "You're a soulless bastard. Dead or alive, I won't let you touch my family."

"Well then, shall we see?" Sephiroth's tone was light, almost jovial. "Children are such fragile things. You can kill them without a second thought, by accident really. Or did you not know I'd heard about her?"

"This has nothing to do with her." Desperation made Reno's voice gravelly, hollow, hopeless in his throat. The gun had to have bullets in it, it just had to. He pulled the trigger.

Empty.

A shot rang out anyway, and blood dripped onto his face.

Sephiroth staggered backward, hand covering one ruined eye, and fell to his knees. As one, he and Reno looked upward as though at a deity of some kind. No one but they saw Reeve pulling back into the shadows atop the balcony.

"You," Sephiroth rasped, almost smiling, then collapsed.

All was still. Reno pushed himself to his feet, raining glass and plaster that he dusted off the leather pants. The remaining Pirates made themselves very small, but he ignored them. In two steps, he reached the fallen general and squatted down beside the body. As he peeled the glove away from Sephiroth's left hand, onlookers gasped. A number two had been tattooed in black against the man's pale skin.

"A knockoff," Tseng snorted from behind Reno. "I knew the original had to be dead."

Reno turned and stood. Reeve and Tseng were waiting, both looking as though nothing had ruffled either of their dark suits. There was no sign of either the sniper rifle or the pistol that Reeve had fired in that critical moment. They had just appeared here, Turks speaking genially to a former ganglord.

"Yeah," Reno said carelessly, "I wondered why he went down so easy."

Tseng rolled his eyes, but Reeve nodded and stepped forward. "We have some questions for you, Reno 'Red Wolf' Cappellirossi. If you would come with us?"

A murmur went through the crowd. A fake Sephiroth dead, killed by a rival gang lord, and now the Turks had appeared? The Pirates seemed to have teleported away. None of them were interested in taking up the mantle dropped by their former leader, especially not when ShinRa's most famous underground assassins were around.

Reno pretended to think. "I suppose resisting would be a bad idea?"

"Yes," Reeve said evenly, "It would be a very, very bad idea, Mr. Cappellirossi."

Reno shrugged. "Might as well get it over with." He noticed his leather coat lying on the floor nearby. It was badly mangled, dusty with footprints and more plaster, but he scooped it up anyway and slung it over his arm. "Lead on."

Someone else could clean up the mess for once.

---

Dawn was still hours away as the black car sped back across the bridge, though the moon hung lower in the sky than it had on their way in.

The air in the car was tense. Tseng, driving as usual, felt ashamed that his part of the mission had failed, and it was his nature to take such failure as a personal shortcoming. Beside him, less angry than he expected, Reeve sat and looked out the window at the shimmering dark water, the steel cables and the retreating city.

"Don't worry about it, Se," Reeve said softly without looking at him. "He was a clone, yes, but even a clone of that bastard would have some of the original's power. You would have succeeded if he hadn't somehow sensed the bullet. The mission was completed, the target neutralized. We can't expect our jobs always to go according to plan." The ghost of a smile crossed Reeve's lips. "That's precisely why they send us for things like this."

"Yes, sir," was all Tseng replied, but the tension eased. Both men looked into the rearview mirror at their companion, now sprawled out in the back seat and staring at the ceiling. "Reno?"

"Present," he said, passing his arm over his eyes and sitting up. "What?"

Tseng looked back at the road. "You did a good job there."

Praise from Tseng was rare, and Reno let it sink in slowly. "Thanks." He leaned his head against the cool glass window and counted the pylons as they passed. "Se?"

"Yes?"

He couldn't help the grin. "Next time, it's your turn to be the bait."

Reeve tossed the Zippo back to him. "Next time, huh?"

The three of them were silent once more.

-fin-


End file.
